The Cowl
by Alexandria-likethecityinEgypt
Summary: Eight year old Dick Grayson discovered his new guardian is Gotham City's very own vigilante: The Batman. Believing he's alone in the Batcave, Dick takes the chance to indulge his curiosity . . . {Currently the 6th in the Young Dick Grayson (YDG) series.} Recently re-edited and added a little new material to Dick's background.
**This little one-shot, another in the Young Dick Grayson series, comes just a few days before Christmas during the first year that Dick had come to live with Bruce Wayne. This happens about a week after Dick discovers that Bruce is The Batman . . . At this time, "The Cowl" would be found between "The Legacy" and "All I Want For Christmas".**

 **No Warnings . . .**

* * *

Bruce turned toward the changing room. Alfred walked ahead of him, accompanying the younger man as he often did, in order to more easily facilitate the donning of the suit. He was surprised when the butler pulled up short, however, instead of entering.

"Alfred, what . . .?"

The older man turned his head and held a finger to his lips, cutting off his question. Alfred beckoned Bruce closer with a slight upturning of his lips. Curious, Bruce eased to the edge of the doorway and peered around the corner. What he saw lifted his eyebrows.

His eight-year-old, newly-appointed ward stood in front of the wardrobe that held his Bat suit in silent awe. As Bruce watched, Dick touched the stylized bat on the armored chest of the suit. Then, he ran curious fingers lightly over the buckle of the utility belt on the stand beside it. The cowl sat next to the belt, its empty lenses gazing sightlessly on the small being before it. The child bit his lip and raised hesitant fingers to hover in front of it. Cautiously, he touched one of the 'ears'.

That one held an antenna that amplified communications between the cowl and the cave.

Dick's fingers slid down from there tracing over the eyebrow molded into a permanent scowl and then, over the nose guard. His fingers explored every crook and crevice he could find, touching the throat, feeling the reinforced material that was strong enough to slow a blade or deflect a bullet, but flexible enough to allow the wearer nearly unlimited range of movement.

The cowl had extra panels of the same material in several key regions around the cranium and over the area that protected the upper spine. It had saved Bruce's life on countless occasions. At the moment, WayneTech was developing a similar synthetic material that promised the wearer even greater protection without the weight and would provide more breathability. The truth was, the cowl was hot, and there had been times when Batman had been in danger of succumbing to heatstroke while in the midst of a battle. Bruce hoped to replace this particular cowl within the next few months with a new and improved version.

Bruce leaned back, crooking a finger at his butler. The two men retreated to the computer, several yards away on a lower level where Bruce brought up the cameras he had installed in the changing room. Although, the cameras had been there since he had designed the space, this was the first time since the initial security check that he had bothered bringing them up. After all, it was only _he_ that used that space. Honestly, the cameras were redundant, what with all the other security he had placed throughout the cave.

The cameras flickered to life and there the boy stood . . . His young ward. Bruce frowned as the small hands lifted the cowl from its perch. Surprise shone in the boy's face at its heaviness, but the child appeared determined. Bruce started to rise from his chair.

"Where are you going?" Alfred laid a staying hand upon the younger man's shoulder. "He's not harming anything."

"It isn't that, Alfred. This isn't what I want for him," Bruce told him. "He is too young. His shoulders are too small for a burden such as the one I carry."

"Says the man currently training him in various fighting methods and basic forensic science," Alfred retorted dryly.

The irony of that statement wasn't lost on Bruce, but he watched, disturbed, as Dick struggled to handle the heavy cowl. It seemed to reinforce the message that his decision to train the boy was a mistake. He took Dick in in an effort to save him, not to pass on his personal war. That wasn't the legacy that Bruce wanted to leave to him.

"That's different," Bruce said. He didn't know who he was trying to convince, though: Alfred or himself.

"The boy is one of the most talented athletes I've ever seen and he's _smart_ , too, Alfred. He is obviously curious about what it is that I do as the Batman which, I suppose, is natural. I see it only as a way for the two of us to bond. Isn't that what Leslie suggested? That we discover a mutual interest to pursue as a way of strengthening our connection?"

"I don't believe that was what the good doctor had in mind when she made that suggestion. Master Bruce, you promised him a way of helping you catch the mobster who is responsible for murdering his parents," Alfred reminded him. "That boy's interest goes far deeper than mere curiosity, you realize. In his mind, he's training specifically for that goal."

"And he'll have his chance, Alfred. I'll bring Dick all the clues that Batman recovers in the investigation and, together, we will collect the evidence required to pin Zucco to the murders. The two of us will locate him and, then, the Batman will bring him down," he told him.

Alfred sighed. The look in his eyes said that he believed that Bruce was being naïve but, Bruce was certain that the elder man would see the wisdom of his decision in time. After Dick helped bring Zucco down, he would then be able to settle into a normal, happy childhood, finally free of the helplessness, grief, and anger that had led Bruce onto the path of vigilantism.

Dick's story would be different. Bruce had made this promise to himself. With that goal in mind, he tried once more to nip Dick's curiosity in the bud, but Alfred's hand on his shoulder remained firm.

"Perhaps, we are both wrong. Perhaps, it isn't so much the Batman that the boy is wanting to emulate," the butler suggested thoughtfully. "Perhaps, it is only the man."

"What are you talking about?"

"Sir," Alfred spoke as if his point was as obvious, "it is clear that that boy is fascinated with you. It is obvious that he admires you. As you say, young Master Richard is extremely bright, and he knows as well as we do the importance of the role Batman plays in your life."

Bruce's eyes strayed back to the monitor in front of them. The screen was huge. He had made it purposely so. It was easier to work from several windows, bring up numerous files, and search a variety of cameras and angles when he would hack into the city's grid. It allowed him to access footage from ATMs throughout the city as well as check the manor's security cameras at the same time. Plus, he could see the screen from practically every vantage point in the cave.

Currently, the larger than life visage of Dick Grayson was filling the screen.

Dick turned his head, looking toward the doorway. His expression belonging to one who feared he was trespassing into an area in which he was not allowed. Dick thought he might be doing something wrong . . . Bruce frowned again. Alfred was right. There was little that the boy could do to damage the cowl he held. He certainly wasn't doing anything wrong, although, asking for permission wouldn't have gone amiss. If Bruce didn't want him touching the cowl, it wasn't because Dick was going to hurt it. It was more that Bruce feared the cowl could harm the boy.

Was this mere curiosity or something else? The start of a dangerous path . . . Despite Alfred's words, Bruce did _not_ want Dick emulating The Batman. His life was dangerous, and it tended to consume him. His time, his energy, practically all of his attention - _Everything_ in Bruce's life seemed to revolve around his mission.

Well, it _had_ , at least, until recently. Until the addition of one curious little boy.

"It is not for you to determine Master Richard's destiny," Alfred told him, patting Bruce's shoulder. "The boy will find his way with or without you. If the child has a fascination with The Batman, I believe it is only because The Batman is _you_ : the man who wears the suit and not the vigilante himself."

With that, Alfred returned to the manor and back to whatever tasks that he had left behind. Bruce didn't watch him leave. No, his attention was locked on the screen in front of him.

* * *

Dick had turned toward the six-foot mirror that took up a portion of one wall. He licked his lips, glancing behind him again. There was no need for nervousness now, however. Bruce no longer felt compelled to interrupt as he watched, unobserved, from the doorway.

Turning the heavy cowl around in his hands, Dick carefully lifted it up and over his head. The boy's eyes appeared in the opening provided for the wearer's lower face. Bruce's mouth tilted up with amusement. The cowl was far too large for one so young. Dick frowned in concentration as he forced the piece onto his head, but the material was stiff enough to hold its shape. It took a bit of tugging but eventually Dick's eyes were behind the lenses. His chin and neck could be seen through the facial opening.

Bruce chuckled quietly as he leaned his shoulder against the door frame and waited for the boy to notice him.

"I'm Batman," Dick told the mirror. " _I am Batman_. Criminals _beware_!"

Reaching over to snag the heavy, black, leather cape, Dick draped it over his shoulder, holding it in front of his face like a vampire.

" _I am THE BATMAN_ ," he declared dramatically, "and I'm going to kick your booty!"

Bruce snorted. Dropping his voice down, he growled, "Batman doesn't say ' _booty_ '."

Thinking himself alone, Dick spun around, startled. Stumbling backwards into the mirror, the cowl wobbled and fell, landing on the floor between them with a soft thump. Flushing with guilt and embarrassment, Dick gaped at Bruce.

"I-I'm sorry!" Dropping to his knees, Dick picked up the cowl. "I shouldn't have touched it. I didn't mean to drop it," he stammered.

As the boy struggled to return the cowl to its perch, Bruce covered Dick's smaller hands with his own as together they slid the headpiece in place. He then sat on the bench and pulled the boy close. Dick stared at his feet until Bruce lifted his face up with a finger under his chin.

"It's all right. There's no harm done," Bruce told him. "It was made to handle a lot more punishment than that."

Dick blinked watery eyes at him. "Y-You're not mad at me?"

"For being curious? No. Of course not." He tapped the boy lightly on his nose and was rewarded with a smile. "But, if you don't mind, I'd prefer that you don't explore my utility belt without Alfred or myself present. The items kept in it could hurt you."

"It's really cool," Dick said, regaining some of his previous excitement, "but really heavy." The boy frowned as a thought crossed his mind. "How do you fight the bad guys wearing something that heavy?"

Bruce shrugged. "The whole suit is heavy," he told him. "I've had to train my body hard in order to fight in it."

"So, why don't you make it lighter?"

"I would, but the materials that make up the suit aren't exactly lightweight," Bruce explained. He pulled the top of the suit over to show him. "These panels here are a type of body armor and are made of Kevlar. That's the same stuff the police use in their bulletproof vests."

Dick ran his hand over the chest plate. "That's so the bad guys can't shoot you," Dick surmised.

Bruce nodded. "That right, because the bad guys aren't always happy to see me."

"Have you been shot before?" Dick asked wide-eyed.

He hesitated before answering.

"Once or twice," Bruce admitted reluctantly. He didn't want Dick to worry that someday his new guardian wouldn't come home after patrol.

"Can I see your scars" Dick asked suddenly.

"What?"

"Can I see your scar where you got shot?" he repeated. "Look. I'll show you mine," Dick said, tugging up his shirt and exposing three long, thin scars across his belly.

 _Those aren't from any surgery_ , Bruce noted immediately. The scars appeared to be a couple of years old, their coloring almost matched the child's normal skin tone. That meant, when Dick received them they were quite a bit larger than they were now. Bruce ran his fingers over them, the ridge was hardly noticeable. _Whoever stitched these_ , Bruce thought, _knew what he was doing_.

"Where did you get these?" he asked carefully.

"From a tiger!" Dick announced proudly. The boy seemed to enjoy shocking The Batman.

"I beg your pardon?" It was Bruce's turn to gape.

Dick giggled. "He was still a cub, but Toby – that was the trainer – said he was too big to play with anymore. Sangho didn't mean to hurt me, though. It was an accident."

 _Perhaps, this was why the judge decided to remove Dick from the circus_? Bruce thought, dismayed. "What did the doctor say when he stitched it up?"

Dick shrugged. "I didn't go to the hospital. Uncle Jack, um, I mean Pop Haley took care of me while my Dad yelled at Toby. Mom had to stay with him to help make sure Dad didn't hit the trainer."

"Pop Haley did a good job," Bruce admitted. "I suppose circus folk took care of a lot of their own injuries?"

"Yep," Dick smiled. "The hospital was too 'spensive most of the time. We only went when it was something we couldn't fix ourselves. Like my broken arm when I fell getting down from the net after practice." Dick lifted his right arm up, pointing to a spot midway along the lower limb.

"Did you get hurt very often?" Bruce asked curiously. Dick shared equal billing with his famous parents and equal danger.

"Nope," the boy said, popping his 'p'. "I only did that time cause I was showing off . . . So, why did you choose a bat?" Dick asked abruptly, returning the conversation back to the Batsuit.

"Why not a bat?" Bruce retorted lightly. Then, realizing it had been a serious question, Bruce answered him with a partial truth. "Criminals tend to come out at night . . ."

"Okay, so, then why not an owl?"

"Owlman?" Bruce raised an eyebrow. He might have had it been an owl instead of a bat that flew through his window that night.

"But, I guess, owls aren't as scary," Dick determined.

"Well, they should be. They are predators, after all." Bruce smiled. "But, you're right; bats _are_ scarier. And, I wanted the criminals to be scared. When they are afraid, it is half the battle."

"I get it. The bad guys would rather run away than fight you," Dick nodded sagely.

Didn't he just tell Alfred this boy was smart?

"That's right. When they are scared, they don't think clearly, and it gives me an important advantage."

"And, makes it easier to outsmart them," Dick declared.

Pleased, Bruce nodded. "Exactly."

Dick grew silent for a time but, before Bruce could shoo him back upstairs so he could change, the boy spoke again.

"Is . . . Is Zucco afraid of bats?" Dick might have asked the question quietly, but the boy was intent on Bruce's answer.

"If he's not, then he soon will be," he assured the child in his best Batman growl.

"Good," Dick said with a shiver.

Resting his hand on Dick's shoulder, Bruce gave him a small squeeze. "I promise you, Dick. He'll pay for his crimes."

The boy looked satisfied and happier now that he had Bruce's vow. Nodding, Dick looked back at the suit. "Are you going to look for Zucco tonight?"

"I am," he said. After a slight hesitation, Bruce continued. "Alfred normally helps me dress, but he went back upstairs."

Dick blinked at him. "Would you like me to go get him for you?"

"Alfred's probably pretty busy," he said in a thoughtful tone. "I was kind of hoping that you might be willing to help me out."

The boy gasped outright. His eyes lit up with excitement. " _Really_?"

"I'd sure appreciate it. That suit's heavy, you know. It can be hard to get on and off by myself," Bruce told him.

Dick turned back to the stand, his hand settling on the cowl. "You want this now?"

Bruce chuckled as he stripped off his t-shirt. "First the suit. The cowl comes last."

Dick jerked his hands back, still smiling. "Right."

* * *

Bruce rested one knee on the bench. It made him a little shorter. Dick was standing on top of it beside him, holding the cowl in both hands. He was suited up, needing only this last piece. He bent so that Dick could slip it over his head, assisting the boy with one hand to guide it into place. Straightening, he adjusted the mask more securely over his face, making the transformation from guardian to vigilante complete.

Glancing down at the boy, he saw the change in his demeanor. The hard-won comfort they had gained in each other's company was gone. In its place was that expression Bruce had noted earlier when he first found Dick staring at the suit.

Awe.

And, the slightest a touch of fear.

Pushing the cowl back off of his face, he kneeled before the boy. "I don't want you to be afraid of me, Dick," he told him. "Not even when I am wearing this. Batman will never hurt you."

Dick licked his lips nervously. "Because Batman is the good guy."

Bruce opened and closed his mouth. There was nothing he could really say to that. Many of his methods were questionable at best. He didn't coddle the criminals, but met violence with violence. However, his mission wasn't harming the innocent. His mission was to protect the innocent when he could, and to provide them justice when he could not. Luckily, Dick didn't appear to notice his hesitation.

"Only criminals should be scared," the boy declared, then, confidently.

 _That_ statement, Bruce could wholeheartedly agree. Tugging his cowl into place, he growled low. "I am vengeance. I am the night . . ."

"You are . . ."

" _Batman_ ," he proclaimed with all the drama the child could wish. Batman swirled his cape to encompass the boy as they walked out of the dressing room together. Dick walked with him to the car.

"Can I stay up and wait for you?"

"I'll be getting back too late," Batman explained as he climbed into the vehicle.

"Tomorrow's Saturday," Dick reminded him hopefully.

Batman had several leads to follow up concerning Zucco's whereabouts. He and Dick could spend tomorrow afternoon seeing if whatever information he gleaned tonight might reveal where the mobster was holing up.

"I can't guarantee when I'll be returning," he began, "but you can stay up til ten."

"Ten? But I stayed up way later than that after circus performances," Dick argued.

"Fine. Midnight," Batman started the engine. When had he become such a pushover? He spoke louder so that Dick could hear him over the roar of the powerful motor. "But, not a minute later whether I'm back or not. No arguments."

"Deal," Dick grinned as he stepped back away from the Batmobile

The turnstile moved the car into position, and Batman shot off through the cave. As he burst out into the night, Batman arranged his itinerary in his mind in such a way that he might return to the cave before the stroke of midnight.

After all, there was more to his existence now than just the mission. For the first time since he could remember, Bruce found himself looking forward to something different, something new. He couldn't help marveling at how his life had changed so dramatically in such a short time.

 _For the better_ , he decided right then. _His life had definitely changed for the better_.

* * *

 **REACTIONS?**

 **You know if you had been in Dick's position, you'd have done the same thing, too. I know I would have . . .**

 **Hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. (I took the opportunity to add a little bit of background to Dick's life in the circus. Everyone has some "war" stories from their past. Dick should have a few, too.)**


End file.
